


Walk Without A Cut

by 51PegasiB



Series: Team Player Verse [13]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BDSM, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/F, Mind Control, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22363696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/51PegasiB/pseuds/51PegasiB
Summary: Darcy's dreams return, even though Cap is by her side.(Title is from "These Dreams" by Heart)
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Loki
Series: Team Player Verse [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/385114
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Walk Without A Cut

This time, when she woke, she was again in her mistress’ bedroom of green and gold. She sat and looked around. She seemed to be alone. She drew herself slowly to her feet and looked around. 

The tall windows looked out on the beautiful lawn where she’d been violated by a bull on an earlier occasion on one side and on a city full of spires and towers in another. 

But where was her mistress? 

She had been left no clothes to wear. She debated taking one of her mistress’ sleeping furs, but decided without explicit permission, it was too dangerous to do so. 

Instead, she padded into the hallway, naked and on her bare feet, listening for her mistress’ voice. 

She walked down long corridors and met almost no one. The few servants who scurried past did not give her even a second glance. 

Eventually she did hear the voice she was straining for, echoing from another room. She followed it and found herself in the grand hall where she’d been privileged to attend her mistress’ celebratory feast. 

Her mistress sat, wreathed in green and black, silk and leather. Her crown with two great curved golden horns sat on her thick black hair. 

There was a man standing before the throne. He was tall and broad-shouldered. His red cape thrown back over one shoulder and his goatee groomed sharply. He was speaking with great animation. 

“We do respect you, but you cannot change everything just because your brother is away.” 

“Well, it seems I can,” she answered him. “As he hasn’t come back to stop me. I’m surprised you dare to question it, Fandral.” 

Darcy stood quietly behind the man, against one of the many pillars that held up the lofty ceiling. Her mistress spotted her and beckoned as she continued talking. “I’m surprised you peeled yourself off your back long enough to come here, in fact. Is it an insufficiency of charming enough bedfellows? Have you already slept with everyone in the city? I may have a solution.” 

Fandral looked tense. His expression as Darcy walked forward was stern. “As lovely and … well-endowed as you undoubtedly are in your current form, your highness, I wouldn’t presume…”

Her mistress laughed sharply. “Oh, I didn’t mean me.”

Darcy stepped up next to the throne, still unclothed. Her mistress petted her behind gently. “I have other options,” her mistress said. 

“Go down there and present for Lord Fandral,” she said. Darcy obeyed, going down on all fours before the throne, gazing up at her mistress as she spread her legs wide and invitingly. 

“Now see here, you can’t just….”

“Oh, you don’t fancy that hole? She has others. Kneel up, gift, open your mouth for him. 

Darcy obeyed, spinning around kneel before him, mouth open wide. 

The man looked at her with pity then with something else. 

“Say, I know this girl,” he said. Anger in his voice. “Why is she here?”

“Oh she’s just a mortal I got from somewhere. What does it matter? Her kind were born to serve us.”

“No one is born to serve another,” he said. 

“My dear,” He put his hand out towards Darcy. she slid her lips around one finger and started to suck. 

“She doesn’t know that you’re trying to help her. She doesn’t want to be helped,” laughed her mistress. “She wants to serve you, don’t you?” 

Darcy nodded without ceasing the movements of her tongue. 

“Go on, undo his belt. Show him what you can do,” Darcy moved forward to do so, nearly falling when the man stepped back sharply. “No?” her mistress asked him. The man was looking at her with anger and horror in his eyes. She didn’t know what she’d done to so displease him. 

“I could offer to beat her if you don’t... if that would assuage your alleged moral code,” her mistress said. 

Fandral shook his head. “I don’t want this. I enjoy the willing. How did you...even? What mind magic have you done?” 

“She is willing. Watch,” her mistress said. “Come over here, gift. Kneel before me and satisfy me.” 

Darcy obeyed, falling to her knees in front of the throne and sliding her head under the silk skirts that separated her from her mistress’ salty skin. 

“Oh, very nice.” her mistress said as she began to lave her tongue against her mistress’ sex. 

She heard the man curse. 

“Sure you don’t want the other end? I’m not using it.”

Her mistress laughed as heavy footsteps rang out to mark his retreat. 

When the echo of the footsteps died away, Mistress prodded her impatiently with one foot. Darcy crept backwards on her hands and knees till she was free of the emerald skirts.

She couldn’t help but let out a whimper as her mistress’ foot pressed her into the cold, stone floor of the throne room.

“Oh, don’t tell me you were so desperate to continue.” Her mistress snapped down at her. 

She nodded, mutely. 

The icy eyes narrowed at her. Dark hair slid down off the green-clad milky shoulder, veiling the rest of the world from Darcy’s view as she stared up, eyes only for her mistress.

“Beg me,” came the words from on high. 

“Please?” she asked. Her voice sounded small and pitiful to her own ears. 

An eye-roll and her mistress stood again and turned to walk away. “Please. Please, mistress. Please let your gift give you pleasure with its tongue. Please.”

Darcy reached out towards a slim ankle, but didn’t dare grab it. 

“Please, mistress, I beg of you.” Darcy was desperate to keep her from walking away. “Please let me give you pleasure. 

Darcy let her hands fall to the stone and let herself go limp, prostrate at the elegant feet, arms stretched before her. 

She heard the slippers turn again and her mistress faced her again. 

“Please,” Darcy said again, quietly.   
  


Her mistress sat slowly back in her throne. 

“Crawl to me. Slowly. Keep your eyes down.” Darcy obeyed, pulling herself across the few feet that separated them and prostrating herself at her mistress’ feet. 

Her mistress parted her legs and pulled her skirts up. “Hands behind your back. Mouth only. You may approach.”

Darcy put her arms back, each hand grasping the other wrist. The floor rasped against her knees as she moved forward. She pressed her face into moist flesh and felt her mistress’ skirts settle in around her. 

She pushed forward fervidly, tongue searching for the center of her pleasure. Her mistress spread wider and Darcy found her core, nosing into the folds of her flesh and tasting her eagerly. 

All was grey time, for a while. Her entire world narrowing down to taste and texture on the tongue. Her mistress did not push her away again and even started to press forward against Darcy’s mouth. 

She sucked and tongued for all she was worth. Soon, the long legs tensed around her and she heard a gasp of pleasure from above. She kept moving till her mistress pushed her back, again. She scuttled into a kneeling position. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

Slim fingers brushed her head and she closed her eyes, feeling them there. 

“You won’t remember this when you awake. Tonight is just for me.”

Her mistress stood and walked away again. Darcy didn’t move, afraid to even look up. 

“That idiot Fandral will be enough to deal with,” she heard from the retreating form. 


End file.
